Based off the story Moussa told us during African Dance Ensemble.
In a small village in Africa, there was a mother and two sons. Now, these two sons were no ordinary sons. They were twins. Twins of the Yin-and-Yang; In other words, one was good and one was evil. The good twin listened to his elders, aided his mother, followed customs and worked diligently. The bad twin, however, was his mirror opposite. He discarded all of the elders' advice, disrespected his mother's wishes, spat on customs and worked only when it was convenient to him.
Leading from this village was a wide road; it was the only way to get to their neighboring villages. The path had a guardian spirit who would bless the passers by as they made their way to or from their sister village. His only request was to not be looked at, nor touched. And the good people respected his wish; warning any newcomers of the now age-old custom. And the people would pray, and pass. Pray and pass. Pray and pass. No one touched, no one saw. They would simply pray and pass.
One day, the mother and her two twins were to attend a wedding in a sister village. Their journey to the village was uneventful. Each respected custom by praying, then passing. The mother prayed, the good twin prayed and the bad twin (reluctantly) prayed. The wedding was a delightful success. In the evening, after the ceremony and celebration had died down, the small village's people began their tired trek home. Pray and pass. Pray and pass. Pray and pass. The twins and their mother were the last to embark on their short journey. The Yin and Yang twins were playing, full of energy from the celebration and feast, running ahead of their mother, reliving the dances they learned at the ceremony. Their mother attempted to quiet them, but to no avail. The mischievous twin growing tired of dancing, began to search for a new form of entertainment. "The spirit," he whispered, "I will touch it tonight!" The mother overheard her boy whispering and abruptly stopped in her path. The boy, lost in thought, ran into his mother's back. "You must never touch the spirit. It is not only custom, but a way to pay respect to the good spirit who has caused no harm to you! Why must you refuse to listen to what has been told to you many times before? Never, ever, touch the spirit!" The brother turned an unlistening ear to his mother and rolled his eyes. The family resumed their walk. As the family approached the good spirit, the rogue twin slowed his pace. His mother and brother before him prayed and passed. He, however, stopped. He first scrutinized the spirit, squinting his dark eyes to see the spirit's translucent skin, visible only because of the waning light. He imitated the guardian's sweeping hand (the motion used to bless the passersby) and noticed, "Aha!" the spirit was holding a broom, "It is with this the spirit blesses the people?" The malevolent twin touched the spirit. He felt the smooth skin, and relished the coolness. Quick as lightening, the twin's free hand shot out and stole the spirit's broom. The spirit, enraged at the unknowing bad twin, possessed the boy, forcing his host to flail and thrash about. By now, the good twin and his mother discovered the bad twin had gone missing. They returned to find the boy violently seizing. Suddenly, he stopped. His body was still, spare the quick rise and fall of the boy's chest as he breathed. Before his mother could release a sigh of relief, the boy stood up sharply. So quick that neither the good twin, nor the mother saw him stand. Looking her boy in the face, the woman could no longer recognize her boy. His face was twisted into a gruesome mask of fury, his eyes paradoxically dull and lackluster. This child was no longer the woman's child, but a host body to the furious spirit. He began his violent path to the village to which the twin belonged. Burning homes, striking women, challenging leaders, and murdering those in his path. Leaving a zig-zag path of carnage in his wake, the spirit-boy stopped at nothing to release his fury. After ruining the lives of those he spared, the spirit left the boy's body. Leaving an empty shell in the form of a human. The mother and good twin, picked up the boy by his arms and helped him limp into the clearing. They sat him down in the field, bid him goodbye and left to begin anew in their sister village, a mother and son. The shell sat in the field, unfeeling. Unknowing. His own spirit devoured, he stared into the vast nothingness that was now his old village. The now-calm spirit resumed his spot on the path. The mother and son on the all too familiar path, prayed and passed. Prayed and passed.
The good people of the neighboring village learned of the boy and told his tale to warn the maverick children of what happened, when the boy did not listen to his mother, and touched the spirit.
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